


Not Tonight

by aunt_zelda



Category: The Screw Job - Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Gambling, Misses Clause Challenge, Post-Canon, Seasickness, Yuletide 2017, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: Devan planned to kill Dren. What if she didn't follow through?





	Not Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Settiai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/gifts).



> I loved your letter and wanted to write every single idea! I picked Devan and Dren because I wanted them to have a happy ending too. Hope you like this little treat.

Devan had planned to kill Dren.

Honest, she had! That had been the plan. The plan within the plan … within the plan. Escaping the Clasp with the emerald, and Devan killing her unsuspecting smitten jailor, had been a good solid plan. 

It had just gotten so messy inside her Grandma’s house. Fights, Tarvis watching her every twitch, Obby sidling around and poking his nose where it didn’t belong, and Delweth being oh so mysterious the whole time. Then there had been dogs, and spells, and traps. Devan had nearly died and Dren had nearly died. Then Delweth had spotted her chance, and stabbed Tarvis in the back while he was busy gloating over Devan and Dren. While those two had fought and Obby had shaken off his blindness, Devan had grabbed Dren and fled. 

It was nearly an hour of sneaking through the rainy streets of Emon before Devan had remembered her plan. Dren, bleeding and staggering, was crouched before her, peering around to check if the next street over was clear. 

Devan had planned to kill Dren. It was now or never, when the woman was wounded and vulnerable. Devan gripped a dagger under her cloak, focusing on a point between Dren’s shoulders.

“All clear,” Dren whispered. “Just three more streets and we make it to the docks.”

Devan thought about the long, lonely, paranoid road ahead of her, with the Clasp after her and her Grandma after her and debt collectors always lurking. 

Devan thought about Dren’s goofy poems and big eyes and clever fingers. 

Devan let go of the dagger hilt. She would kill Dren … just not tonight. 

~*~

Most of the time on the ship, Devan was ill. The way the ship heaved and the waves roiled made her head throb and her stomach churn. She barely kept down any food and slept poorly. 

All through it, Dren cared for her. Dren held her hair when she vomited, held her hands to soothe her, spooned thin gruel into her mouth to get her to eat something. 

Devan had initially planned to shove Dren off the side of the ship and let the sea take care of the former Clasp assassin. But the thought of going above decks, where the rocking and shifting was even worse, and the waves were splashing, made Dren turn green and clammy. 

Devan would kill Dren … just not on the ship. 

~*~

The casino was a good spot. Not too high profile, but not too low class either. Devan’s luck was good and each night she raked piles of gold and platinum into her lap. Dren lurked behind her, flashing a knife every time one of the losers at the card table got a bit angry. 

It worked, until one night it didn’t. One of Devan’s card partners had brought muscle of his own, and a fight ensued. Devan cast Color Spray and scooped as many of the coins into her pockets as she could. Dren sliced a few of the guards and stole their purses, before dragging Devan to the nearest exit. 

A big man was waiting for them there. He grabbed Devan by the collar and hauled her up, brandishing a curved knife. “Been watching you, little cheat,” he growled. 

Dren stuck him in the side once, twice, three times. He dropped Devan. Dren kept stabbing, and the man fell to the casino floor. 

Devan realized she could run. Her pockets were stuffed with enough to get her far, far away. Color Spray wouldn’t last forever, and the guards could catch up to Dren. 

Instead, Devan grabbed Dren’s hand and led her out of the casino. 

Devan would kill Dren … just not in that casino. 

~*~

They were woken in the night by a Clasp assassin, two months after they’d fled Emon. He’d tied them up before they’d even realized he was there. 

“You thought you could hide forever? You were easy to find!” the assassin laughed. “Now … do I bring you back alive for more money, or just kill you now?” He hefted a hand ax. “Maybe I kill one of you, and keep the other alive. Plenty of money for me, and only one filthy traitor to keep track of.” He took out a coin. “Heads … tails …” he pointed to each of them in turn, and then flipped it. 

Devan could cast minor illusion and make the coin pick Dren, regardless of how it truly fell. 

But … Dren had defended her for months. Dren had given up everything for her. 

Devan wriggled one hand free and cast the illusion of an approaching light under the door. When the assassin went to check for an intruder, Dren broke free of her ropes and backstabbed the man. 

“Nobody's gonna hurt her! Not ever!!” Dren hissed, stabbing the man over and over again. 

Devan started to think that she might not kill Dren after all.


End file.
